Personal Narrative: My Childhood Home

I come from a world where the only thing that is constant, is change. Changing states, changing houses, and changing schools. Unlike most other kids, I don't have a childhood home where I made countless memories, in fact, my earliest memories as a child all consist of cardboard moving boxes, along with unimaginably long car rides to foreign places. I don’t have a door marked to show how I've grown over the years, and I don't have a bedroom wall thick with paint covering over colors I chose as a child. Truthfully, often times when I was younger, and would see someone with these things, I was tempted to be envious and couldn't help but to think how lucky they were to have such stability. As a result of this, I spent a large portion of my childhood